


When the Flames Settle

by jeannedarcprice



Series: When the Flames Settle [1]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Banter, Body Horror, Canon-Typical Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, F/M, Nightmares, Post-Game(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, illustrated fanfic, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:14:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannedarcprice/pseuds/jeannedarcprice
Summary: Jill and Carlos have been hopping between motels since they landed in the rural outskirts, worried of being caught up with, but also feeling aimless in their survivor’s guilt. They have vague plans to meet with other survivors and take down Umbrella, but first they need to digest what has happened to them.Fatigued in mindandbody, it doesn't take long for them to find comfort in each other.
Relationships: Carlos Oliveira/Jill Valentine
Series: When the Flames Settle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742605
Comments: 18
Kudos: 110





	When the Flames Settle

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: Apparently _Speed_ actually came out in 1994. I dont know where I got the below information from! 😂
> 
> I am aware that _Speed_ came out in 1999, and RE3 is set in 1998. Just let me have my fun, because when I thought of them that scene from the movie came straight to mind! XD  
> Thanks to @akanekid on tumblr for the Spanish translation!

\- _October 6, 10:47 p.m. – Motel Pineside –_

Carlos hovered nervously by the vending machine, looking at the basic amenities inside – toothbrushes, toothpaste, face cream, batteries, shaving cream, razors – his eyes lowered. Condoms. That was the task he’d been given. Go get some condoms because he wasn’t getting any unless he did.

Had he heard her right?

He hesitated again. He was used to following orders, getting his ass sent into dangerous situations by higher ups. That’d all been well and good when he was fighting in skirmishes as a guerrilla operative in his home country. But Raccoon City had been different. He’d jumped at the massive pay cheque he’d been offered to join the U.B.C.S. – the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service – not really taking a moment to wonder why the Umbrella Corporation had set it up. Let alone why the bar was pretty low on the past actions of the recruits. It didn’t matter to him because he’d always fought on the good side, and being a special force tasked with saving civilians sounded decent to him. However, it all became clear once they were deployed into Raccoon– they had been prized for their ruthlessness and expendability. Seeing what he saw in the early hours of their rescue mission? How their units had be decimated before they’d even worked out what the fuck was going on? He’d never imagined that he was going to be sent into a zombie and God-knows-what infested city. Let alone survive it. Yet here he was, scared shitless about buying some condoms. He even tried to imagine Mikhal ordering him to put the god damn money in the machine and just punch the number already.

It didn’t work.

A moment of sorrow bolted through him, and he allowed himself to mourn the old captain. He was rough around the edges, a cantankerous old Russian soldier who spoke with a thick accent and hadn’t bothered to learn the finer points of the English language. But he'd got himself understood, and that’s what mattered. Tyrell and he used to joke around and call him ‘the old tank' or ‘pops’ – never to his face though. As the leader of a platoon of a rowdy and likeable yet streetwise bunch, Mikhail had been as close to a father figure than a lot of them would’ve even known.

Jill said he’d gone out protecting her from that _thing_. That tall, wide chested monster masquerading in a human form. He’d only seen it a handful of times, and despite his bravado, it had scared the shit out of him. Jill had lured it away from all of them when it’d tracked her to the subway station, and he supposed that's why he hadn’t been killed by it. He was grateful. Even more so knowing what’d happened to Mikhal and Tyrell.

“Damn. Not you too, T,” he tutted, shaking his head to the side. He’d been the only one to survive out of his unit. Their fates could’ve been his if he’d insisted on being at Jill’s side every time she’d shrugged him off. She was strong, capable, but she’d been a curse to those in her company because of the abomination seeking her.

“ _Lay that one at Umbrella's feet...”_ he thought to himself.

It wasn’t her fault, and she certainly was a victim in all of this too. Hell, she’d been _infected_ with the virus. And when he saw her on the ground outside the clock tower, two thoughts rushed through his head. One, was she dead? Was he too late? And two – was she _undead_? A split second after he'd thought that he was upon her. She’d managed to roll over onto her side and if he hadn’t known better he would’ve assumed she was sleeping. But as he pulled her over to inspect her, he saw dried vomit around her mouth, on the floor, her skin pale and clammy, her veins clear to see and dark as if her blood was coagulating within them.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d seen a few of this platoon turn. He knew what being infected looked like.

In that instant he thought fuck Bard, fuck his mission. Mikhal, his team, the civilians they’d fought so hard to save were all dead. He might as well try to save _her_. She’d been up against that thing so many times already it almost felt unfair that she’d die now. He stared hard at the severed arm of the monster, wondering what she’d gone through to do that to it, mentally scratching out the fuck Bard comment in his head. He could use Bard. Get her the vaccine. _Yes!_

She was light when he’d picked her up, even as a dead weight, and there was still warmth to her body which he somehow found comforting. Maybe the worst of the fever had passed, and as he ran in the direction of the hospital, he prayed to god that she didn’t suddenly wake up feeling peckish. Her cheek and lips had been against his neck the whole way, and quite macabrely he thought that’d be a fine way to go. Go out trying to save the one person who he'd grown to give a damn about in all this madness.

Carlos checked himself, knowing he was stalling from the task at hand and mentally calling himself out on it. He allowed his mind to wander, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when he’d started caring for Jill Valentine. Sure, he’d given her a good dose of the heroics, saved her a couple of times, only for her to still be dismissive. He’d assisted her, dazed and confused, back to the subway, seen her give Mikhal a mouthful of scorn. He'd been on the end of that mouth too the moment he mentioned Umbrella. But now he knew her caution and distrust had been well placed. Even in the midst of the carnage he and his unit had been sent into, even when carrying out his single-minded mission to save people, he never once questioned his ‘corporate overlord’s’ motives. It was so fucking dumb of him to not put two-and-two together he almost felt embarrassed. They were a clean-up crew. A disposable clean-up crew.

He supposed he was damn lucky he’d met Jill, because she’d saved his ass too many times to count. He tutted. “ _And now I’m thinking about_ her _ass!”_ he thought to himself, going back to the more pleasant task of working out when he’d fallen for her.

Maybe it was when she sarcastically told him she knew what a radio was. Maybe when she’d told him to go fuck himself over that radio. He huffed. He liked her spunk.

Wait. How about when she’d acknowledged his nickname for her when he’d asked her to key in the subway train route?

_Hey, I’m super cop. Consider it done!_

That felt closer to the moment, but not quite there yet. He ran through his memories a little longer and realised that once they made it back to the subway again, after he thought he’d blown that bastard sky high at the gas station, her attitude to him had changed. She’d thawed out, allowed herself to warm up to his boyish charms – gave him a sly smile because of a flirtatious remark he’d made. When their eyes had met as the train departed, he thought that was the last time he was going to see her.

Yes. That’s probably the exact moment he’d decided he was smitten with her, when it was all over and she was at a safe distance. He honestly believed that she’d be safe with Mikhal, Nicholai and the other civilians. But, part of him had a plan, and that’s why he never asked for the radio back that he’d lent her. And no amount of banter from Tyrell was going to let him forget it either.

_Jeez_. He was going around in circles. That thought brought him back to where he was and what he was doing. Or rather trying to distract himself from doing despite wanting it so bad. He shifted on his hips and cleared his throat, stalling again. It was all clear cut. If he didn’t get back to that room with the condoms in hand, he wasn’t getting any. And he didn’t even know how Jill would react to that. Maybe she’d come straight here and get them herself? No. That's not how it was going down. They’d been dancing around this chemistry for days now. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it, thinking himself shameless seeing everything they’d gone through. But he never quite noticed that she’d been feeling the same, and never even tested it. Once they were on the outside he’d laid off, knowing that the flirting was just a way for him to make light of the situation. He always hid that vulnerability behind charm, and it never sounded forced, but he really was attracted to Jill. And no amount of abstinence was going to get him through that now.

He took a deep breath then gulped, finally concentrating on the vending machine in front of him.

_“Okay, Carlos. You can do this. No need to be a big wuss about it. Think about how many times that row gets refilled. People screwing in motel rooms isn’t a new thing, we all know it.”_ There he went again with the stupid jokes.

His eyes scanned what was on offer again, making sure that he knew which number he needed. A good-humoured huff left his nose when he saw some hair ties. Jill had suggested he get some to sort his fringe out with, and he smiled at the thought of himself with it tied up like some silly mutt yapping at his owner. Not for him. He liked his hair just the way it was, even if it did need a trim. He shuffled again, looking behind him to check if anyone was watching.

_“Nadie_ ,” he said to himself, readying the bill and finally feeding it into the slot. Funny he was more afraid of this transaction than the thought of what waited for him back at the room. Maybe because she’d instigated it all. And there was something to be said about a strong-willed woman who knew what she wanted. He was so apprehensive, so excited, so messed in the head that he couldn’t even think with his dick.

“ _¡_ _Carajo!”_ he cursed, his bill being sucked into the machine only to be spat out again. Nervous hands fumbled with the crumpled money, smoothing it out in a desperate attempt to get it accepted. Second time was the charm, the vending machine finally relinquishing his prize into the flip tray below. He yanked at the handle and reached in, wincing as it scraped on unoiled hinges, trying to hide the package between his hands as he did. A quick sleight of hand later and it was nestled in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie, his feet swiftly taking him out of the reception area.

The air was bracing outside. Strange that, for early October. Still it was late, and even though he’d just accomplished what had seemed impossible for him only minutes earlier, he found himself suddenly weak in the knees at the thought of having to return to their room.

Why was he like this? What was it about her that made him feel like this? It wasn’t some false notion of love, that’s was for sure. Respect? Probably. Afraid of taking advantage? Probably that too. But she’d been the one to initiate this, and very obviously. He was in no doubt where this would go once he got back. Yet still he wavered.

A shudder went up his spine in the cold air. He wanted to believe it was due to the thrill of finally being with Jill. But in all truth, it had been because he’d caught a large shadowy mass beyond the forecourt, a phantom figure that had him thinking of that monster again. He wasn’t afraid to admit it.

Jill said she’d found paperwork in the NEST2 lab which called it _Nemesis_ , and that somehow felt apt. Like some end-of-level boss in a video game. But then again this was no video game, it was real life. And how the hell did you come out of that and not be fucked up by it?

He often felt Jill tossing in her sleep, moaning as if she was reliving it all. He had no doubt that she was, because the Nemesis invaded his dreams too, a reoccurring nightmare where she'd offered herself as bait only for it to ignore her and come after him instead. That dream was second worst to the one where he administered the vaccine to her, only to sit by her bed and watch her body decay in front of him. It always happened so fast in his dream, and every time he woke up in a cold sweat at the sight of her opening her glazed over, dead eyes. Eyes that had a terrible hunger in them.

He felt a flush in his stomach at the very different hunger she’d had in her eyes not ten minutes ago. They’d just been talking and then she was suddenly on his lap, kissing him deeply, both of them greedily panting into it. She’d got off him just as quickly as she’d mounted him, pacing, trying to avoid eye contact. He sat there, dumbfounded. Excited. Wondering if it would go anywhere and if he should make a move.

And she made the next move, just as she had done with the first. She marched over to him and got him to stand up, smoothing her hands over his broad shoulders and down his chest, his breaths quickening as she shamelessly went lower and gave him a firm squeeze through his joggers. Eyes locked she told him she wanted him – or she at least wanted his dick – because that’s what her stroking hand was saying. In so many words she told him to go get some condoms. A packet of them. Who was he to argue with that?

‘O....okay,” he'd stammered in response, knowing that if he didn’t leave there and then it wouldn’t happen. She’d sent him packing with another smouldering, _condescending_ look, enough to send his brain into his pants.

_“Easy, Carlos!”_ he thought. “ _Those_ _eyes, though. They really are something!”_ That thought brought back the unpleasantness of his dream, and he guessed that’s why seeing her eyes cold and dead was so disturbing. Just as disturbing as it was when he knew she was having nightmares next to him. And so last night he’d finally decided he was going to hold her when her dreams went dark, just so she knew she wasn’t alone. She’d woken up in his arms, and she didn’t appear displeased by it, but the day had passed with no word about why or how it had happened. And that had suited him just fine. It saved him from feeling awkward. It'd clearly made an impression though, and he finally took his sight away from the looming treeline across the way, his legs decisively taking him to their room. He studied the SUV they’d rented as he closed in on the door, knowing that the next day would see them on the move again. He didn’t mind that, but he realised that every mile further from the wasteland that had been Raccoon City might mean one less hour he’d get to spend alone with her.

He stopped just at the threshold, ruffling his hair with a shaky hand before blowing out a breath. He was so excited yet apprehensive. He couldn’t wait to share himself with her, couldn’t wait to show her how much she’d ended up meaning to him. And if she wasn’t into any of that crap, he could just go for a really good fuck…

He opened the door. The first thing that hit him when he entered was the sound of running water, the closed bathroom door to his right down the short hallway that led into the room proper. He’d half expected her to be waiting for him just as awkwardly as he would’ve. But he guessed that Miss Valentine had wanted to make herself presentable. The light fitted on the wall over the bed’s headrest was on, but other than that it was dark, save for the flickering of the TV in the corner, a bad signal giving the news broadcast a ghostly look. They always had the news cycles on, watching and waiting for more information on the cover up about Raccoon City – or for it to be exposed – ready to hear the lies they’d weave to get away with annihilating an entire city and all the poor souls within.

In truth they were also waiting for their faces to appear on a bulletin, a sign that they were being hunted down. It hadn’t come so far, but they were paranoid that it eventually would. If anything, it was weird seeing the rest of the country just getting on with it, just like it did even when the worst wars, natural disasters or pandemics were happening. If you’re far enough away from what’s happening its easy to just consume it through the media. But they’d lived through this one, and they both sorely wanted justice to be done.

He sat down at the foot of the bed. A split second later he had fished the pack of condoms out of his pocket and half hid them on the nightstand on his side of the bed. Funny that – they already had designated sides of the bed. He brushed down his knuckles, bruised as they were, then turned to kick off the cheap sneakers he was now wearing. Jill had wanted to burn her clothes, most likely his along with them. But then she’d realised that they were a treasure trove of evidence, cross contaminated as they were. When she – they – found a lab willing enough to take samples and test them they might get some answers. Or a million-and-one new, fucking incomprehensible questions. He sighed, glancing over at the suitcase that held their soiled clothes, gear and weapons triple wrapped in garbage bags to keep them as uncompromised as possible. And to keep the stench out. There was only so far as that could go, and soon even he would be complaining about the smell of decaying bio that followed them around.

The memory of their first night in a motel came to him, and even though it was days ago it felt like an age since he'd landed them in that ‘copter in a remote place. She’d been standing at the reception desk just looking so _done_ with it all. He’d stripped off his work gear before they went in, his fatigues suspiciously caked in blood apart from the voids caused by the straps and body armour. Jill didn’t bother trying to hide the state she was in, there was nothing to salvage. She was a _mess_ , covered in god knows what, a brief shower of rain sending streaks of her skin peeking through the thick layer of grime covering her body.

He didn’t even know how the hell they’d got into that room. He was numb, sure that the moment they’d holed up the manager would call the cops or worse, Umbrella would find them. But Jill had her badge, her ID tucked into one of those hip pouches of hers – bills in a thick bundle too. He’d only noticed it a few days ago but the ID was fake, and the cash was so she didn’t have to use a card. It was like she had been ready to skip town all along, only the destruction of Raccoon City thwarting her of the chance to do it in a stealthy fashion. It seemed like the ID card had worked, the blood and stink explained away all too conveniently - maybe some money on the side to keep quiet about it. He was glad for his fringe. The lights stung his weary eyes, and he watched on as her voice and the desk clerks melted into a murmur that he didn’t entirely register until the conversation was over.

God he was so tired. Tired of the days on the run – tired of being used by Umbrella. Livid that they had got away with it, for now. Being used by Jill Valentine? He didn’t think that was the case. They’d been bound together by what they’d gone through, and he was determined to see through whatever would come with her.

The pressure in the room changed, the hairs on his arms standing on end. There was a sliver of light to his left, one that painted the cheap-looking wood-panelled wall opposite. He was expecting Jill to walk out of it, butt naked, that same greedy look on her face, but the light stayed there on the wall, opening slightly wider. He could hear the water still running.

“You coming in, or what?”

“Huh?”

His voice betrayed how confused he was at the sudden invitation, even under these circumstances. He’d always waited in the room, trying to concentrate on other things whilst she took a shower. A little melodic laugh floated through the barely open door. Barely barring his expectations for what lay beyond it, his heart suddenly doing double time. It was a different sort of adrenaline rush to the one that had hit him when he was facing abominations with a rifle at hand. The same sense of urgency he had when he’d shouted at the undead in the waiting area of the hospital, daring them to take him on just so he could take them down quicker and save her.

“Coming, Carlos?” She said it so innocently, but it was a commanding invite nonetheless. A temptress come to claim him. He questioned himself. Had he saved her for this?

He stood, half numb save the flush that centred just below his navel, his arms ridding himself of his hoodie and t-shirt in one upward stroke. He moved barefoot to that sliver in the doorway, walking out of his joggers as he reached the threshold.

“Can I come in?” he asked gingerly, a gentleman to the end. He didn’t get an answer, but his apprehensive hand pushed at the edge of the door. Determined not to seem too eager, he left his briefs for whatever greeted him on the other side in the hot, steamy room.

***

They ended up on the bed, naturally. Hair damp from the shower, hiding how damp it would become with sweat. They’d tried to towel off as much water as they could between feverish bouts of kissing, neither willing to wait much longer to get on the bed, yet not wanting to have to sleep under damp covers. Carlos found himself being steered to the edge of the bed, the back of his calves touching it, one push away from falling back onto it. Jill ran the towel down his chest one last time, ignoring the fact that she couldn’t push it past his hips without putting her lover in some discomfort. She quickly brought it up to her head and shook her hair vigorously inside its folds before taking a brief swipe at the back of her neck. She let go of it as she pushed out, tumbling onto the bed with him, goose bumps hitting her flesh in the stillness and cold of the room. They kissed, and he held the fleshier part of her waist, guiding her against him. She joined in, riding up against his hardness, not willing to sink him into herself just yet.

She tipped forward onto him, moans and hastily taken breaths the only noises between them. He flipped her over, feeling her legs lock around his waist, kissing at the pulse point on her neck which he’d quickly found out was a spot she loved. His lips stayed there, his teeth gently nipping at the skin, her eyes were barely open, irises rolled back into her head. One of his hands traced down and cupped her breast, caressing it before riding back up her body to hold her neck against his lips again. He shuffled to kneel over her, the other hand being pushed firmly in between her legs. He fondled her with one finger, circling it around that aroused bud of flesh, those warm wet lips inviting him to the only conclusion possible. They’d already had mouthfuls of each other behind the closed doors of the bathroom, Jill ungracefully writhing on the lidded toilet seat, knees locked over his shoulders as she’d almost pulled clumps of his hair out with her tightly bunched fists.

Just like with her neck, he’d quickly found out where to touch her, and Jill bucked at the lustful teasing, groaning in a way that sounded more like pain than anything else. She pushed him off her forcefully, and he realised it was in frustration when she got straight back on top of him and continued the kissing. Only now she had him in her hand, running his tip up and down her slit like she was obsessed with it.

“ _Shit!_ ” he swore at the sensation, bracing his hands against her waist to pull her back and stop himself from going too far too soon. She fought with him, fought for the friction between them, her hips trying to press down against him, her hand still guiding. She bit at his lip and he yelped, the sudden noise bringing their madness to a halt. Except it was a welcome moment to compose themselves.

“You bought them, right?” she panted. She was all business, damp hair hiding half her face, cheeks flushed. His brow flickered as he thought in earnest, the fact that this was actually happening having seemingly half shut down his brain.

“Uh --!” he hesitated, only able to remember a hand full of broken words in English even though his mind was alight with fully formed sentences in Spanish. He gave up, pointing to the bedside table where he’d stashed the protection. “ _Ahí_ _!_ ” he said, urgently, mentally kicking himself as it came out in Spanish anyway.

Pointing is a universal language, as to be expected, and Jill had no trouble finding them, making quick work of the packaging and handing a condom to her lover. She gave him space as he equally readied himself with the same urgency, greedily eyeing him up as he finished. She threw herself on the bed and took him with her.

“Fuck me!” she hissed. Every inch of her, her body, her face, eyes, voice – they were all demanding it. And he was overwhelmed.

She scraped her nails down his chest, through that dark chest hair, further over his stomach and his suddenly clenching abs. His body was heavenly, his smell even more so, and she’d got a nose full of it as she’d sucked on him in the shower, enjoying hearing him gasp and the feeling of his hips involuntarily twitching when she did it right. But that had just all been foreplay, and of course she was the one that’d initiated their move to the bed. She wanted all of him, but right now she especially wanted his cock, and she rocked her hips as he gingerly made contact with her, allowing her to glide up and down his underside. He pushed down on himself to give them both friction, her senses alight with every full stroke. He started to change his angle, digging at her entrance that little bit more with each swipe, and she could feel that burning in her flesh, the one that wanted him to fill her.

“Quit teasing me already! _Fuck me_!”

“ _Fuck!”_ Did he say that out loud? Either way he’d gulped at what she’d said. Her face was so beautiful but intimidating at the same time. That’s what he’d thought when he’d first saved her, still disappointed when she turned out to be feisty and certainly no damsel in distress. In the moment it took for that thought to cross his mind, he felt her hand grasp firmly around him again, her hips inching upwards so she could take _him_. Despite the explosion of pleasure he felt from below his waist his eyes never left hers – and he didn’t dare look away from them as he obeyed her finally, pushing into her as she had demanded. She gasped and tightened, and he let up for a second, only to persevere as he felt her relax around him. They took it slow until she adjusted to him. There were no little signals that she was in discomfort, no quickly braced hands against his hips. He watched her face open as he started up a rhythm, her mouth held slack, her eyes flickering as she jolted with his movements, her breasts – small as they were – a split second behind the rest of her body. She had been tight around him not a moment ago, but now, even with her seizing herself to get what she wanted from this, he pushed past it all.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed under his breath, several moans escaping his throat. He slid himself in and out, her taking in every moment of it, clawing her hands into his buttocks to help drive him. Those fingers squeezed around his butt, those nails pinching and uneven. He ignored the pain they caused him, instead concentrating on giving her what she wanted.

She felt every inch of him, it stretched her where it mattered, and he seemed to know what he was doing with it. He’d already proven himself to be a quick learner tonight; kissing, giving head, _fucking_. Would he be able to make her come too? That would be a tall order on a first session, but he was a willing partner and she had no doubt he’d have her quivering around him at some point. If she kept him around that long. She reached down and caressed herself at the lustful thought, and he reacted to it, suddenly needing to push harder to force him through her tightening muscles. God, she felt divine. He looked down at her to judge how she was feeling.

He caught her gaze and huffed through a warm smile that she returned, her middle finger still rubbing up against her clit, activating a heightened sensitivity inside her that Carlos was satisfying with each single damn _perfect_ thrust.

“It’s so fucking good!” she exclaimed in a whisper, panting at him. She didn’t really need to tell him, he could feel it too. “Don’t stop,” she begged.

He said something in Spanish, and she didn’t catch it, allowing him to grasp at the underside of each of her thighs and fold her legs onto her. She quickly extracted her hand as he did it, the feeling of him slipping out of her a sudden relief but also frustrating. He shifted himself into a new position, almost lying down on her, the tip of his firm cock quickly finding and opening her up again.

The position allowed him to kiss her, and she realised that this was what he wanted as he barely gave her room to breathe, her only option to gulp for air any moment he didn’t have his lips or tongue sealed to her mouth. He could also take her deeper, and she found herself gasping into his mouth between her fight to take breaths as he did. He’d been frantic at first, but now that was dying down, and the rhythm that it brought with it was thoughtful and satisfying in a way that showed he was quick to learn through touch alone what his partner liked. He broke away from the kisses and their eyes locked. Somehow one of her legs had ended up over his shoulder, and he ran his hand down its length as he gazed at her, concentrating. He did something wonderful with his hips, and she whined as if commanding him to carry on, throwing her head back into the covers, her eyes held tightly shut.

Yes. This was what she craved, what she _needed_ right now. She let him take control. She relinquished it. Something that she could do now that she had survived.

It felt like a blissful age in that position until he unexpectedly pulled her onto her front, putting her flat on the bed before tipping her hips up to get access. He lunged into her, harshly, loving the sounds that came from her, the stunted cries choking in her throat at every movement telling him all he needed to know. He stared at her back, almost unseeing until he focused on a large bruise on her shoulder blade, her skin mottled and dark and with healing cuts and puncture wounds on it. She must have fallen hard on her back. Sweat started dripping from his hair, peppering her skin, her smooth spine underneath him.

His arms, even though they were strong, started to give way, and he almost collapsed onto her, rocking gently now, breathing onto that damaged shoulder blade and kissing it like it would heal it. She whimpered and pushed back with her hips, her mouth pulled in a tight line as she concentrated on the feeling of him inside her. She sighed, he grunted. Then her voice filled the quiet room.

“That’s it…” she drew the words out as she tried to get on her forearms, Carlos getting back onto his shaky palms at her instruction. “Just like that!” She let him continue for a little longer, then she bent her knees upward and outward, forcing him to change his position as he locked his own knees behind hers. The angle was new and felt different for both of them, and as he sped up again to make the best of it she chided him.

“Slow down, Casanova!”

He chuckled, knowing that you always listen to a lady. “Yes, ma’am!” he responded, greedily taking a few more quick lunges before savouring her once again. Her hips suddenly jolted underneath him, and she called out as she tightened herself against him. He thought he’d made her come.

“ _Fuck_ that feels so good,” she hissed, a soft hand gripping onto his muscular arm. “Keep it slow.”

“You got it…” came his appeasing reply, coming back down to her braced on one arm so he could pull her face to him and kiss her deeply. “You feel amazing!” he whispered into her swollen lips, taking another deep breath before kissing her again. “ _¡_ _Nunca hay tenido coño como el tuyo!_ ”

He knew she didn’t understand his crude compliment. She had no answer for him. Not with words anyway, and he was quite satisfied with the renewed pleasure filled moans that she breathed into his jaw. She licked at it, nipping and kissing through the fine beard on his face.

“Turn me over,” she urged, shifting but not willing to relinquish the burning pleasure as he stabbed downwards on her. He wasn’t either, if he was completely honest, but he did what she asked of him. Who was he to deny her?

He did it roughly, slapping down on her butt before pulling her over. He caught a glimpse of a smile, her eyes excited as he took hold of both of her wrists and held her arms above her head. He buried his face into her chest, licking at her nipples in turn, nipping at her breasts before running his tongue across them – he’d neglected them since they’d got out of the shower. She positioned herself as they kissed again, wet mouths consuming each other, their hips fighting so he could gain entry into her again. She behaved as he momentarily let go of one of her wrists to guide himself back in, and it took her breath away. She suddenly regretted her good behaviour, because now she wanted to free her hands, to touch his warm skin, his scarred back, squeeze his ass as he fucked her. But his hands were so strong, and part of her loved being _denied_ some control for once.

“Fuuuck!” she exclaimed, her voice in his ear, her teeth biting on his earlobe. He’d hit her spot and her hips involuntarily arched so forcefully that she managed to push him up with her too, the movement also driving him deeper.

_“¡Mierda!_ ” he grunted back at the sensation, parroting her in his own language. He rolled the word off his tongue as she calmed, and he worked on setting the rhythm again. The way he said it was more like a winded breath escaping his lungs. He repeated it as he pushed in and out of her, almost sounding like a large cat purring. She smiled inside at the private thought, inviting his mouth as he swamped hers with another deep kiss, thinking it would ruin the mood if she said it out loud. She’d save it for later, because right now he _was_ taking control, driving his cock into her slow and deep, each thrust ending in a jolt punching against her insides. As he reversed the action it gave her the same pleasure, and she clenched against him to heighten it.

After a while she bucked against him to let him know it was time to change the pace, and as he let go of her wrists and lent upwards she grasped into his broad shoulders, a fiery look on her face.

“I bet you didn’t think we’d end up this much in each other’s personal space!” she jibed. Carlos grinned, coming in closer to her. Her brow flexed momentarily before allowing him the heavy wet kisses between them.

“I certainly never thought we would. You seemed quite stand-offish to begin with!”

“Oh! See how stand-offish I am now,” she retorted, huffing out in approval at what he’d said, lying on her side and inviting him up behind her. He wrapped a strong, battle-scarred arm around her as he firmly slid himself back inside, and even though the sensation had been heavenly, she thought to herself that it was ironic that she always kept herself at an arm’s length from others.

Healthy caution and scepticism were what had kept her alive. She’d learned to rely on her own wits, to survive despite being in a team. That had worked in her favour during the Mansion Incident. They’d been thrust into that horror unwillingly together for the sake of gathering combat data. But the smoke and mirrors had seen them separated and trying to survive on their own. And they’d needed each other to survive. She’d _needed_ to lean on them, and thank god she’d had that option in the end. However, when the flames had settled, when there was just a distant wisp of thick black smoke rising from Arklay forest, she'd retreated into herself again. That’s why she was the last out of the S.T.A.R.S. to leave Raccoon City. Chris, Barry and Rebecca had left pretty much as soon as they were suspended. Brad kept his head down, half out of worry, half out of guilt for abandoning them on that fateful night, and look where that got him.

She zoned out of what was happening right now, Carlos' lips and hands exploring, his strong, protecting arms pulling her onto her back again so he could take her and gaze into her eyes. Her body reacted, but she didn’t see or feel him, suddenly mourning her teammate who had sacrificed himself for her – the bravest thing he had ever done. Tears started to form in her eyes, tears that her lover might have mistaken for sweat coming off her brow. Was _this_ her leaning on him? Was she using him just to see her through this? She held back the tears, banished the thoughts that had no place here and now, willing herself to be lost in this lust. She tilted her head back and moaned an invite, Carlos taking it and licking up the long line of her neck. She smoothed her hands over each side of his head, holding him to her as they rocked on the thin mattress.

“Jill,” he panted, his face filling her own, “I’m gonna come!”

She smiled that way he loved, almost condescending. She loved that he'd whispered like he was asking permission, however urgent he sounded. She didn’t need to say anything, meeting his hips with hers and tightening herself to bring him to the edge. She scraped her fingers through his voluminous, sweaty fringe, pulling it away from his face and holding it tightly so she could see his expression as he came undone. He bit at his lip as he lunged, his eyes going from a half squint, focused, to tightly shut. He said something under his breath in his heavy accent, a muttered plea or curse right before he moaned and pushed into her. He lost restraint, calling out as he came, stopping himself from doing the same on the third and fourth waves by pushing kisses into her lips below him. Unnaturally high whines formed in his throat as he tried to concentrate on everything yet nothing as his basic instincts took over. She consumed him, the heat between her legs, those full lips kissing back, nails running through his hair and down his bruised, scarred back. They writhed together, Jill waiting for him to finish.

After a while he seemed to come back to his senses, breathing heavily, resting his forehead against hers before smiling and inviting more kisses. They both relaxed, words going unsaid, their breathing becoming less laboured. She ran a hand tenderly across his rough jaw, and Carlos didn’t know what to do with himself – he felt guilty, like he’d used her, like she didn’t deserve that from him.

“Sorry!” he blurted out.

“Why?” Her voice was reassuring – forgiving. It lulled him out of the sudden panic he was feeling.

“I came before... you know. Before you could.”

“Oh,” she looked at him thoughtfully. “Unless I’m in charge I don’t really come from just penetration alone, Carlos. But if you want me to teach you--!”

Carlos was up on his knees at the suggestion, his eagerness quickly swatting away the fatigue of his afterglow. “Anything to please a lady!” His grin was blinding, and she smiled warmly at him, the smile quickly turning into a giggle that made him feel self-conscious.

“ _Qué_?” he asked at her teasing, not realising that he’d fallen into his native tongue again.

She let her laugh fade, her exhausted eyes smiling as she looked at him. “You’re right! If you’d died in RC, it would’ve been a ‘cold, cruel, Carlos-less world’!” She shoved his side with her knee, “I’m glad it isn’t!”

He smirked at what she said, suddenly flushed with embarrassment that he'd even said that to her before – _twice_. It had worked though. Here she was, naked underneath him. Soft and warm and blushed pink on every inch of skin. He loved that he’d done that. He ran his coarse fingers from the pool of her neck, down between her breasts and to her stomach thoughtfully.

“Glad you made it out too, _super cop_ , glad you saved my life and --”

The words died in his throat as Jill firmly put a hand to the back of his neck and pulled herself up, sucking his mouth into a deep, fiery kiss.

“Shut up!” she chided, her teeth pulling at his slack bottom lip. “We worked as a team. You saved my ass, I saved yours – _Partner_!”

“Don’t you shit with me now!” he pulled back and laughed, catching her doing the same as she collapsed back onto the pillows, remembering telling him off for even mentioning that they were ‘partners'. “Though I bet you’re glad you saved my ass!” He wriggled his hips for her approval. “I know I’m glad I saved yours!”

An easy grin flashed on his face, but it was soon gone as he looked at her thoughtfully. Her body was covered in bruises that were turning dark, scars and scratches – scars that would leave a mark. He knew his body was just as bad.

“We went through hell,” he murmured, his eyes turning pensive.

“Yeah,” Jill breathed. “We did.”

“Think we’re the only ones that got out?”

“I hope not. There have to be some stupid bastards that are just as resilient as us.”

“Think a few of them are up to what we are right now?” he chanced the cheeky comment, hoping to pull another exasperated look from her. It worked, Jill flashing her teeth as she rolled her eyes then laughed heartily.

“Fuck yes! Do you know the movie _Speed_? Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bullock?”

“Can’t say I do, _super cop_.”

“Ha! Well you’ll love it. It has a super cop in it too. Also has a line at the end that goes something like, ‘people brought together by intense circumstances tend to fuck like there’s no tomorrow after'!”

“ _Bullshit!_ ” Wherever he’d learned his English, his delivery was perfect.

“No, true!” she smiled sweetly. “Well, maybe not those exact words! But, we’re gonna rent it and watch it with a big bowl of popcorn!” Her smile turned sly. “After we’ve fucked a few more times!” With lighting speed she clamped her thighs against his waist and rolled him over with a strength he wasn’t surprised she had, inviting the feeling of her thighs and knees riding up against his wide rib cage.

“Ow!” He hissed; her knee had dug up against an injury he didn’t know was there.

“Oh, shit! You okay?”

His grimace turned into a grin at her concern for him. No matter the pain, he was just ready to be ridden. She really wasn’t like anyone. Strong and brave and _beautiful_. He didn’t know how she’d react if he told her. In all honesty, he wasn’t expecting this to last forever. But he’d live in the here and now, just as he suspected she was. If it turned into something more, he was up for it. He made a mental note to tell her what he thought of her before they were through. “I’m good! I’m good. Maybe don’t get too rough. I’m a bit sore and don’t need whacking like a _piñata_!”

“Oh, you need a good whacking, alright!”

“Ha!” he snorted, not sure how to respond. His eyes were hidden again by that ridiculous fringe of his and Jill brushed it out of the way so she could get a good look at him.

“I love your dick!” she said forcefully – matter of fact – trying to hide the humour in her voice but he’d read it. She shuffled, feeling him stir underneath her. God damn if he wasn’t getting hard again already.

“My dick loves you!” he quipped. Funny, he thought, how they were using the word love and talking about his dick, like it was safe to use that word at a distance. Still, he certainly knew this wasn’t love.

_Definitely lust. I can do lust. Hell, I can do ‘we're only fucking because we nearly died in a city full of zombies and monsters’ if it feels this good._

“You up for another round?” Jill asked him, brazenly, not really asking a question because she slid down and removed the condom before taking him in her mouth again, his taste and smell filling her senses. Carlos dragged his hand across her slender shoulder, then through her hair in appreciation at the sucking noises and murmurs that came from her throat.

“ _No lo pares. Eso es tan bueno_ ,” he breathed.

***

There were flames everywhere, all around her. No exit, no escape strategy, no nothing. Her eyes lifted skyward, and even though it was inky black it looked familiar. Just like the night sky peppered with light pollution from Raccoon City below.

The City of the Dead.

She couldn’t see anything, but she could _hear_ them. The wails, the moans, the screeches and screams, the clumsy shuffling that accompanied those things – those _people_ – when they were in a feeding frenzy. She looked around her wildly, knowing she was surrounded, and still nothing penetrated the flame wall.

Suddenly there he was too. Carlos. But not the Carlos that would’ve run through the flames to rescue her with that boyish smile on his face. His presence felt different, like they had already survived this together even though they were clearly still in the city. In the back of her mind she knew they’d already slept together. She found it hard to reconcile these feelings and so gave up, moving towards him to see if he’d have an idea on how to get out. It was only then that she realised that something was wrong, and as she urgently closed the distance he inexplicably doubled forward in pain.

“ _Carlos_!”

He was on the floor, his back arched, rattling noises in his throat. She took more tentative steps towards him, still feeling the heat from the fire that was hot enough to singe her arm hairs.

“ _Don’t come any closer!”_ his voice begged – distant, disjointed – like the voice wasn’t really coming from him. She knew what was happening, and as she drew closer he convulsed and threw up blood, his fists suddenly clawing into the ground. Seconds passed as she watched him in silent horror, only for him to snap his head upwards as if he was reacting to her presence in a way a hunter does to prey.

A scream died in her throat. That handsome man, that easy smile, that curtain of hair. Now he was slack jawed, drooling, his hair matted with more than just blood. He hissed and lunged forward, and she was glad that he didn’t seem to have the use of his legs this time. She pitied him, was scared of him – but more so scared of herself. What had Nicholai said? She couldn’t pull the trigger when it mattered. He’d tested her resolve on that, and it had ended badly for him. It would’ve ended badly for Carlos too if it hadn't struck his bullet-proof vest..

She swallowed the ball in her throat, hesitantly shuffling back as Carlos dragged himself to her, his uncoordinated arms making hard work of it. She took a good long look at his face, ugly in decay, trying to will the façade in front of her away. But a deep wet gurgle left his throat as she went still in her contemplation of him, and she found no comfort in those empty eyes. She pulled out her handgun, sorrowfully pointing it down at his rotten, upturned face, feeling his moist grasp slip against her boot.

_“I’m sorry,”_ she whispered, aimed, then fired.

She felt nothing, strangely. But then she felt panic. She looked down her gun arm, blotches and veins appearing on her skin, finger’s shrivelling. Panic stricken, she hastily wiped down her arm as if scrubbing dirt away, only for a chunk of flesh to come off at her agitation.

“ _This can’t be happening! Carlos injected me with the god-damn vaccine!”_

Her breathing quickened as she felt her neck, touching tendons and what she thought was bone, her hand coming back soaked in blood. An image flashed before her eyes – Kenneth dead on the floor, that zombie ripping out his gullet, wetly chewing on it as it lazily turned its attention to her. She started to retreat backwards from her invisible assailant, and in her panic she dropped the gun.

“ _No no no no no!”_ she screamed, falling to her knees, going blind as cataracts formed over her eyes. Her hands scraped across rough asphalt in her fruitless search for the gun, and she swore a couple of her nails were claimed by it too, bones now exposed robbing her of her sense of touch. She wanted that gun, needed it. She needed to pull the trigger on herself. Funny that Nicholai’s grinning face flashed before her again. He was right. For all her self-righteousness – for her willingness to kill herself if it came to the worst – she’d still couldn’t come to terms with doing it to others, even with their consent. In her scrabbling her hand brushed up against Carlos’ head, wet and missing chunks of his hair, his skull. She felt tears fall from her eyes. She swore they were tears because they felt hot and there was pressure in her sinuses. Either that or it could’ve just been her eyes haemorrhaging. She felt down his body, his leg, feeling for the holster, finding her prize there.

Jill made a feeble whine as she cocked her only means of escape, taking short, laboured breaths, her lungs stinging as it felt like she was drowning on the hot air. She brought it up to the side of her head, feeling the cold barrel – a sweet kiss of death- against her temple, almost soothing for its coolness in the heat. She blew out a calming breath from her decaying lungs, grit her teeth, and pulled the trigger.

_BLAM!_

Flames again. That same feeling of being trapped, the same feeling that death and decay lay just beyond its protective circle. She double took her surroundings, noticing that Carlos wasn’t on the floor this time. A quick glance at her own hands confirmed that she wasn’t infected either. Part of her knew it was a dream, but her mind had made it so real for her that she could do nothing but relive it.

Somehow the hot air around her became more oppressive, funnelling towards her like she was the chimney. Heat waves danced in front of her eyes, the wall of flame encroaching on her. She thought it would be better to die in the fire than give in to whatever was on the other side of it. At least she didn’t have to face any of it.

Suddenly, there was a pounding of footsteps, that guttural growl calling for her former unit. It was only then she panicked. Unable to leave, too scared to try to jump through the flames, even though it was probably her best bet. The footsteps and voice closed in, turning into the canter of a terrible, huge beast, the growl turning more feral. Her hands went desperately to her holster at her side, then the strap on her back – a frantic search in the pockets for any trauma supplies. Nothing to be found. Nothing to fight with. Nothing to heal her broken body with. Just her bare hands.

She raised them above her head defensively, screaming at the wall of flame in anger and fear, defiance and hopelessness. And as her voice was spent it crashed through to her, those terrible slate-like shards of teeth and an impossibly long jaw roaring for her destruction. Her scream rose again, her voice breaking, breaking like her arms as they took the brunt of an attack designed to disarm her. Her vision tunnelled as she looked into its face. Its massive jaw opening impossibly wider, the details of the back of its throat clear to see. She’d never stopped long enough to look at it properly. Did it really look like this? Or was it just the deranged fruit of her nightmares?

In the end it didn’t matter. Jill had lost the will to fight, she put her shattered arms up once again to fend off another attack, and the Nemesis struck her down mercilessly with little effort, stopping for good the scream that left her mouth as she fell into darkness.

_WAKE UP!_

She started, the jolt sending her stiff and panicked, gasping. She thought she saw fire in the room, but as the nightmare’s veil fell from her foggy mind, she realised that it was sunlight glowing from behind some threadbare curtains. She felt a strong arm squeeze around her waist, a huff off warm air at the nape of her neck.

_“When will the nightmares stop?”_ she thought to herself. “ _Do they ever stop?”_

Despite the answer not being forthcoming her body relaxed, and she rolled onto her back, resting her head against his brow. She’d been glad for the fact that since they’d got out of Raccoon they’d been sharing a bed. Part of her needed the comfort of someone being there – and the sex the night before had been satisfying. But the more important thing was the familiarity of waking up to someone who knew what had happened. A person to whom waking up daily from nightmares was the norm.

She’d seen him dead, _again_. Just another zombie that she had to take care of. She’d been seeing it for days now, and it had all started in that hospital room when she’d first come around after fighting off the virus. She hadn’t been able to kill him then, but steadily, ever so steadily, it was getting to a place in her dreams where she could put him down. Put him out of his misery.

Seeing herself turning, though? Putting herself out of her misery? She’d been seeing that in the nightmares for months now, ever since the Mansion Incident. It was almost a nightly occurrence.

The tears started then, a stream that she couldn’t and didn’t want to stop. The pills had kept things at bay for so long, but she knew that if she ever let up, ever showed her weakness, it could be the end of her. Chris, Rebecca and Barry hadn’t truly understood how she felt, just as she hadn’t understood their trauma. It had been shared yet deeply personal – untouchable. Would Carlos understand what she’d been through? Would she tell him about the nightly dreams where he turned and she turned and she had to shoot them both, like some twisted Groundhog Day?

Her watery eyes scanned the peaceful, quiet room, specks of dust floating through the air and illuminated by the sun leaking in through the curtains. She felt him, warm and inviting next to her, and asked herself again the question that’d plagued her ever since she woke up in that hospital, the only person cured by the vaccine to the T-Virus.

_Why did he put himself through all of this to save me?_

She’d asked him about what he’d gone through for her, and he’d told her without a speck of bravado in his voice, a humbled tone telling her that he didn’t expect to be owed for it. He’d spent an age trying to find her at the clock tower, fought off a hospital full of the undead to get the vaccine for her. And even after that he somehow found the energy to go into the basement as well to look for the stockpile. He could’ve given up on her, left her for dead in that courtyard. But she was glad he hadn’t, glad that she hadn’t ended up as another one of those mindless zombies, unable to finish it herself. The one thing she’d feared the most since the Spencer Mansion.

She brought her hand up to her face to wipe away the tears, more concerned that they would wake him up. She realised that it was probably already too late as she had to wipe down her neck more than anywhere else. No doubt the tears were already cooling on the pillow next to Carlos’ face. She removed her hand from the futile task, scrunching her eyes closed against the yellow light then looking tenderly to her side. His hair was a mess – as usual – she couldn’t see his features except for his mouth, those rough, kissable lips. Her fingers gently tousled a mass of loose waves against the side of his head, and of all the movements that would wake him up, that was the one. He grumbled and he stirred, a breath leaving his warm chest as he moaned. He squeezed her waist again, and she felt him wrap a hairy leg around hers protectively. His voice came from behind the curtain of hair.

“Morning, super cop.”

She saw his mouth smiling, inviting the kiss she placed on it. He must have tasted her tears because he was suddenly sitting up and cupping her cheeks.

“Hey. You okay, Jill?”

She looked at him, watching as he pulled his fringe back himself to check, trying desperately to hook as much of it behind his ears as he could. His eyes were so kind, so calming, so strong – so concerned for her. She tried to smile, to lie to him, but as she did she shook her head from side to side as tears welled up in her eyes again. It was followed by short gasps for air that shook her lithe frame, ugly noises coming from her throat between her breaths as she let the sobbing take her over.

“Woah, woah, woah! Easy, Jill. I gotcha!” He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what could possibly make it any better. They had lived, fought, lost and won on the battlefield together. But what was left for them? Broken bodies carrying on. Broken bodies taking comfort from each other. Broken minds that needed to heal before moving forward.

He pulled her up and cradled her head against his chest, feeling her shudder against him. She grasped at his strong arms, her hands quickly seeking the warmth of his chest. She pushed herself to him, knowing that she’d been so strong, so commanding, so _alone_ , over the past few days – no, months. Only to survive. She knew she needed to let go, and what a better place to do it than here, with him. She sniffed loudly against his collar before pulling away from him.

Her eyes were bloodshot, terrible looking, but he searched for the clear blue of her irises. He saw her there and without permission moved in to kiss her deeply, not caring about the tears and the snot that marred her face. When they finished, he swamped her with his arms, and she slowly calmed against his chest.

“I got you,” he repeated in a whisper. “For however long you need it. I don’t care what this is or isn’t. We’ll get through this. Together. And then, when we’re ready, we’re gonna make those bastards pay!”

She nodded in silent agreement, finally at peace with her need to lean on someone, glad that it was him.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation: 
> 
> \- “¡Carajo!” / "Damn! / Shit!"  
> \- “¡Nunca hay tenido coño como el tuyo!” / "I've never had pussy like you before!"  
> \- “No lo pares. Eso es tan bueno." / "Don't stop. It feels so good."
> 
> If anyone has any corrections or localisation for South American spanish, do tell me!
> 
> I'm working on the next part of this series, so if you're interested, please subscribe to it!
> 
> Thank you for reading!  
> You can find some more Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira related art on my [Tumblr blog ](https://jeannedarcprice.tumblr.com/) under tags #jill valentine #carlos oliveira #valeveira #resident evil 3 remake


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